


Trust is a fragile thing

by RaspberryPi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, sick murphy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryPi/pseuds/RaspberryPi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bellamy moved towards the entrance of his tent as Murphy sat in silence but he paused before exiting. “You have five minutes to be up and ready, after that I’m leaving.” He left without a second glance.</p><p>Murphy spent the next minute making up his mind but didn’t leave the tent for another seven because seriously, fuck Bellamy Blake."</p><p>Or Clarke hasn't returned since the events at Mount Weather so Bellamy recruits Murphy in order to search for her himself and the two learn a lot more about each other in the process</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after the events of season 2 with some minor changes, basically Murphy leaves Jaha with the others when Emori takes their food and resources, so he doesn't end up in the bunker for 3 months and is instead at Arcadia. Besides that, everything else is still canon based.

“Murphy.” A hand shook him roughly, wrenching him from the last tendrils of sleep and he groaned. He’d been sleeping peacefully for once. 

“Murphy,” the voice tried again and when all he did was burrow his face further into his pillow, the voice sighed, irritated. They seemed to turn away for a moment in defeat and Murphy relaxed, hopeful that he could resume his sleep. There was a reason he had chosen this spot to pitch his tent, right along the boundaries of Arcadia and hidden away from the rest of Arcadia’s population. He’d had complete peace and quiet here the last month and up until now he had been convinced no one knew or for that matter cared where he had pitched his tent. Apparently however, there had been an exception to that rule and that said exception now yanked back his cover, exposing him to the chilly morning air. Cursing in frustration, he opened his eyes to glare at the intruder.

It was early morning, the sun only just beginning to rise but he could still make out Bellamy’s face looming above him and he blinked in surprise. “If you were planning to kill me, it’s usually easier to do so while I’m asleep,” he drawled, eyeing the gun currently slung over Bellamy’s shoulder. 

Bellamy ignored him, instead throwing a shirt at his face. “Get up, you’re coming with me.” He began rooting around Murphy’s tent, tossing articles of clothing into a bag as Murphy watched, irritated. “Going where exactly? If you’re planning to run away or something then I want no part.”

Bellamy paused his sudden destruction of Murphy’s tent to glance up at him. “I’m going looking for Clarke and you’re coming with me. She’s in danger, or will be soon enough…..I’ll explain it all later but right now we need to get going.”

Murphy started to wonder if he was dreaming. That, or he’d accidentally eaten jobi nuts and was currently hallucinating because there was no way in hell Bellamy would come looking for him for help. Bellamy was looking at him expectantly so he replied, “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone who cares about Clarke.”

Bellamy snorted. “I know you don’t give a damn about Clarke.”

“Then why the hell are you here?” He demanded, feeling increasingly bewildered.

Bellamy sighed and straightened up, “Because I know you’re sick to death of peeling vegetables, sick of being treated like dirt around this camp. If you come with me, I’ll speak to Kane, get you a better duty, maybe even get you on guard duty if you’re lucky. And,” he paused, removing the gun from his shoulder and tossing it in his direction, “if you help me, you’ll also have this.”

Murphy caught the gun and said nothing, his mind torn. He’d lived a peaceful life the past month, keeping his head down and rarely interacting with the rest of Arcadia. On the other hand, he _did_ detest peeling vegetables for the camp, the monotony of it almost boring him to tears. He’d been handed one of the lowest jobs once he returned to Arcadia and, to add insult to injury, he’d purposely been given a blunt knife, as if they thought he might try and slit people’s throats at a moments notice. He’d accepted it at the time without complaint, swallowing both his anger and pride but it still made his blood boil whenever he thought about it.

Bellamy moved towards the entrance of his tent as Murphy sat in silence but he paused before exiting. “You have five minutes to be up and ready, after that I’m leaving.” He left without a second glance.

Murphy spent the next minute making up his mind but didn’t leave the tent for another seven because seriously, fuck Bellamy Blake.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Murphy had figured they would simply walk out the main gates but instead found himself being led further away from the main Arcadia population, towards a lone figure crouching by the camps electrical fencing. This figure turned out to be Raven, much to Murphy’s dismay, considering he’d done a damn good job of avoiding her in the last month. As they approached, Raven straightened up and opened her mouth, only to snap it shut again when she spotted Murphy. A look of shock and disgust flashed across her face as she glared at Murphy.

“ _This_ is who who’ve chosen to bring with you!?” she hissed at Bellamy, finally turning her glare on him.

“Trust me, I’m as shocked as you are,” Murphy deadpanned, smirking at her when she gave him a disgusted look.

“I know you haven’t exactly been a leader in the last month Bellamy, but people still look up to you, are still willing to help you. You shouldn’t have to resort to him,” she shot him another dirty look before continuing. “Miller, Harper, Monroe, Bellamy you know you could have gone to Octavia-“

“Enough,” Bellamy cut across her, giving her a hard look. “I’ve made my decision and I’m sticking with it, end of discussion. Now are you going to turn off the electricity for me or not?”

For a moment Raven didn’t budge, instead she stared at Bellamy, as if searching his face would help her to discover why he had lost so much sense that he had started to trust Murphy. After a beat she sighed and stepped back, muttering, “Already done.”

Bellamy stepped around her and threw his stuff over the wiring and after a beat, Murphy did the same. He paused as he looked out through the fencing at the surrounding forest and wondered, not for the first time, if he was making a mistake. He fingered the gun slung over his shoulder, the touch instantly calming him but quickly eyed the gun attached to Bellamy’s hip. Was he signing his own death warrant? 

He turned back to the two, his mind still troubled and watched as they embraced, Raven saying something in a voice too low for Murphy to hear. Then she turned to him, jabbing her finger into his bony chest. “As for you,” she started, as Murphy took a wary couple of steps back, “If you return without Bellamy I’m going to assume you’ve killed him and shoot you on the spot. Got it?”

“Duly noted.” He smirked at her and turned around to follow Bellamy through the fencing. He paused just before climbing through and turned to watch Raven walk away, her limp more prominent than ever. She was the only one he let talk to her like that without giving a cruel or sarcastic reply back because she was perhaps the only one who had earned that right.

“You going to stay crouched like that all day or what?” 

Swallowing his guilt, he turned to follow, swathing away Bellamy’s offered hand of assistance.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once having left the Arcadia fencing, Bellamy quickened the pace until they were almost sprinting down the slope of open land, making a bee line for the wooded area. He said nothing to Murphy, his expression unreadable.

“So,” Murphy started, jogging to keep up with Bellamy’s quick strides, “Are you going to explain what all of this is about?”

Bellamy took a minute to reply, glancing back at Arcadia as he spoke, “I will, once we’re deeper into the forest.” He fiddled with his gun for a second before dropping his hands to his sides again.

Murphy eyed Bellamy’s hand movements warily, before glancing at his surroundings. The sun had begun its ascent into the sky, casting a weak orange glow on the forest up ahead. Most of Arcadia’s people were yet to wake, any guards were posted at the gate and Murphy and Bellamy were heading in the opposite direction. They were completely alone.

Fear began to take root in Murphy, spreading when Bellamy continued to remain silent. He put his hand on his own gun and attempted to remain calm. If Bellamy had wanted him dead, there were much easier methods he could have done it by. Poison. Slitting his throat at night. Hell, he probably could have shot him in the middle of Arcadia and no one would have cared, frankly he would have been doing them all a favour. Plus, Bellamy had given him a gun. Surely he wouldn’t arm him if he planned to kill him.

Unless of course the gun wasn’t loaded. Of course. That was it, Murphy was an idiot. They were nearing the trees now, nearing a place that was out of gunshot so Bellamy could put a bullet in his head. His breath quickened and he glanced back quickly at Arcadia. Should he make a run for it? He looked at the gun that his quivering hand was touching. He had to make sure.

In one quick movement, he pulled out his gun, aimed it at the sky and pulled the trigger. The gunshot was deafening as it filled the relative silence and Murphy staggered back a couple of steps in surprise.

Bellamy whirled around and stared at him in shock. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, glancing up at Arcadia in fear.

“It fired,” Murphy said, staring at the gun in surprise.

Bellamy stared at him as if he’d grown another head. “Of course it fired! That’s what guns do when you pull the trigger!”

Murphy was about to reply when the sound of voices coming from Arcadia stopped him. Bellamy had apparently heard them too because he grabbed Murphy roughly by the front of the jacket and tugged him towards the woods.

“Do anything else to attract their attention and I’ll knock you out,” he threatened before they made a dash for cover, leaving Murphy more confused than ever.


	2. Chapter 2

They raced through the woods for the next ten minutes, weaving between trees and tumbling over rocks before Bellamy finally deemed it safe enough to stop. He came to a sudden halt, whirling around to glare at Murphy who had just narrowly avoided colliding with him.

“Care to explain what that was about?” he asked, gesturing towards the gun still clutched in Murphy’s hands.

“I was checking to see if it was loaded,” Murphy replied defensively.

Bellamy seemed confused. “Of course it would have bullets in it, do you think I’d leave with an empty gun?”

“If you were planning to kill me then yes.”

Now Bellamy rolled his eyes. “What benefit would I get out of killing you? Besides, bit of an elaborate plan just to have you dead, don’t you think? I could have just poisoned you, or killed you at night if I really wanted to.”

Murphy almost grinned at their similar death scenarios but stopped himself. “Explain why you’ve brought me with you then,” he demanded instead. “You heard Raven, you could have asked any of the delinquents to come with you and they would have in a heartbeat. Instead you brought me. Why?”

Bellamy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making the dark curls stick out wildly. “You’re right, most of them probably would have come with me. But most of them are nice, genuine people, that I’d have to make conversation with and truthfully I haven’t been feeling that amicable as of late. But you?” he grinned slightly at Murphy, “I don’t give a damn what you think of me.”

He had a feeling that Bellamy wasn’t completely telling the truth but for now it would do. He smirked back at him, “I’ll take you not caring about my feelings over the threat of murder any day.”

Bellamy snorted, rooted in his bag and pulled out a map. “Feelings? I thought you were too consumed by hate and anger to feel much else?”

Murphy did grin at that. “Shut up Bellamy.” He watched him study the map for a minute before asking, “So what exactly is the plan?”

Bellamy glanced at him for a second before returning his gaze to the map. “Plan? Find Clarke.”

Murphy rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know that but you must have some idea of where she is, right?”

Bellamy sighed and rolled up the map. “I haven’t a clue,” he admitted quietly and it was the first time Murphy noticed how weary he looked. He wiped his hand across his face before setting off in a northwards direction.

Murphy watched him go for a second in disbelief. There were miles upon miles of forest alone and Clarke could have gone anywhere. For just how long did Bellamy plan to search for her? Murphy closed his eyes and groaned in frustration before opening them and jogging to catch up with Bellamy.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
It was almost dusk before Bellamy admitted defeat for the day and they began to set up a fire. They had exchanged few words throughout the day besides Bellamy’s muttered directions and Murphy’s complaints, the latter of which had increased in frequency as the day wore on. Murphy had had little in terms of exercise since his expedition with Jaha a little over a month ago and his muscles were screaming in protest by the end of the day. His boots had chaffed his feet raw, his t-shirt was sticking to his back with sweat and he was thoroughly pissed off by the time he eventually got to sit down. He left Bellamy set up the fire, watching him as he collected sticks from nearby. Unlike Murphy, he seemed almost unaffected by the day’s exertion, the slightly weary look on his face being the only giveaway. 

Murphy had found five blisters on his feet and was just counting his sixth when Bellamy plopped down beside him with a sigh and handed him a bottle of water. They sat in silence for a moment before Bellamy pulled food out of his bag, berries and a couple of loaves of bread and handed some to Murphy.

“So the food, guns. Stolen from camp I presume?” he asked, pulling some of the bread apart. “I’m curious, how exactly are you to get me off vegetable duty if you’ve both stolen resources and snuck out of camp? Somehow I don’t see you being in the position to ask for anything once we return.”

Bellamy at least had the decency to look slightly abashed. He paused for a second, “Whatever consequences I face when we go back, I promise you I’ll be facing them alone. I’ll tell them I threatened you at gunpoint if I have to.” He looked Murphy in the eyes, “And in terms of your duty, I have a way of getting you off of it, trust me on this.”

Murphy laughed a short, humourless sound. “Trust isn’t something I do anymore. Last time I trusted someone, I ended up with a noose tied around my neck.”

There was a sharp intake of breath beside him. “I was just giving the people what they wanted,” Bellamy shot back.

That stung. “Oh yes I forgot, the great leader Bellamy, always thinking of what the people want. You know, when you forcefully removed everyone’s wristbands or sunk Raven’s radio connection, ya I can really see how you were thinking of everyone else,” he replied sarcastically.

A stony silence spread out between them. Murphy began throwing little sticks into the fire, watching it flame up for a second, the hot embers glowing brightly. He wanted to hit something, preferably Bellamy.

“But,” Bellamy began and Murphy continued to throw sticks, ignoring him. “That doesn’t mean that what I did was right.”

Murphy paused and glanced over at him. His face was lit up by the fire and Murphy could see the guilt and regret in those chocolate eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Murphy said quickly, turning back to the fire. This was not the direction he expected this conversation to go in. “What’s done is done. Plus I tried to hang you too, I reckon that makes us pretty even.”

Bellamy fidgeted slightly. “Not entirely even.” 

Murphy quickly realised what he was getting at. He laughed. “You think I stopped you from falling to save you? I was doing that to save my own neck,” he lied. “With you gone I would have been left with Finn and Monroe, the former half-crazy and the latter hating my guts. I wouldn’t have had a chance.”

Bellamy didn’t appear convinced. “It doesn’t matter what reasons you had. The fact remains the same, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. And for that, I owe you.”  
Murphy didn’t reply, strangely irritated by the idea that Bellamy owed him something.

Bellamy sighed and lay down, pulling his jacket over him. He glanced at Murphy. “You should get some rest, I want to be up again at the crack of dawn.” With that, he rolled over and closed his eyes.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The next couple of days were spent in the same fashion as the first, up at the crack of dawn to search for Clarke and not ceasing their search until dusk. They’d also begun to collect berries and nuts as they searched and on the third day, Bellamy shot down a rabbit that scampered into their line of vision as, according to him, “The food rations won’t last forever.” This worried Murphy as it became more and more obvious that Bellamy wouldn’t return to Arcadia until Clarke was found. And finding Clarke was appearing more and more like an impossible task.

As the days past, Murphy observed Bellamy, his hasty consultations of the map, his frenzied moves, his haggard face and all the while he was forcefully reminded of Finn. Like Finn, it appeared Bellamy had fallen for Clarke although when exactly this had happened, Murphy was unsure. However, while the similarities between the two was disconcerting to say the least, Bellamy had yet to bring up the idea of Clarke being captured by grounders. If he did, Murphy was hightailing it out of there because another village massacre was the last thing he wanted.

In fact, it wasn’t until four or five days had passed before they had their first run in with grounders. While they had caught sight of a fire or two and once had passed within close range to a small grounder civilisation, they had otherwise steered well clear of them.

Murphy had been collecting water from a stream, Bellamy a couple of feet away when he spotted a flash of a brown braid from the corner of his eye. He was on his feet in seconds, gun raised while Bellamy glanced up in surprise, having been busy skinning a rabbit.

Two grounders emerged from the bushes and both were armed. They were much shorter than both Murphy and Bellamy and with a start, Murphy realised they were children. The elder of the two, a boy, couldn’t have been more than 12 while the girl looked to be around 10. The boy had stepped protectively in front of the girl, bow and arrow raised while the girl pulled out a knife from behind the boy.

Bellamy had stood up but had made no move towards his gun, which still hung loosely at his side. Instead he turned towards Murphy and hissed, “Lower your gun Murphy!”

Murphy glanced at Bellamy for a second, shocked, before fixing his gaze on the grounder children again. He knew Arcadia had struck some loose form of a peace agreement with the grounders after the events of Mount Weather but Bellamy was crazy to think they should leave themselves defenceless, even if it was children they were facing.

“No!” he snapped back, keeping his gun trained on the grounders. “Are you mad? Raise yours Bellamy!”

Bellamy glared at Murphy for a second before reaching for his gun and Murphy relaxed a little, while the grounder boy pulled on his bow a little tighter, his arm quivering. However, instead of raising his gun, Bellamy threw it a couple of feet away from them and raised his arms, locking eyes with the grounder boy.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Murphy hissed as Bellamy took a couple of steps towards him. The grounder boy watched him, his face impassive, dark eyes following Bellamy’s movements.

Bellamy ignored him, eyes still on the grounders. “Skaikru,” he said pointing towards himself and then at Murphy before raising his arms again.

There was a moment of silence before the grounder girl whispered something to the boy in trigedasleng and he nodded. The girl moved beside him, the side of her face half hidden by a long dark braid. Murphy didn’t think a 10 year old could look this menacing until now. Neither of them lowered their weapons.

Instead the girl pointed at Murphy and said something in trigedasleng and gestured downwards with her free hand. Bellamy immediately moved towards Murphy and put his hand on the gun.

“No,” he snarled, not taking his eyes off the grounders. “I don’t trust them.”

“We have a peace agreement,” Bellamy muttered, “Don’t be the one to break it.”

He pushed on the gun and Murphy resisted for a second before yielding. If the grounders didn’t kill Bellamy, then Murphy was going to do it himself.

Once the gun was lowered, the grounder boy nodded and both of them lowered their weapons. They pointed to the right of Bellamy and Murphy and began to walk there slowly, eyes never leaving their faces.

Murphy waited until they were well out of sight before he glared at Bellamy. “What the hell was that about?” he snapped, shoving Bellamy in the chest.

Bellamy stumbled for a second before glaring back at Murphy, looking just as furious. “What was that about?” he repeated, eyes agleam in fury. “How about you pointing a gun at two children!?”

“They were armed!” Murphy shouted, shocked at Bellamy’s response. When had he become so soft? “They snuck up on us, weapons raised and you expect me not to react just because they’re children? Bellamy, grounders are vicious and their children are no exception. I’ve been to their camps, I _know_.”

“I don’t care!” Bellamy growled, taking a couple of steps until he was right in Murphy’s face. Murphy stood his ground, refusing to back down. “Children aren’t a threat, they shouldn’t be involved in fighting.” All of the anger drained from Bellamy’s face suddenly, as if he was a balloon that had just been deflated. “Children shouldn’t be hurt,” he said backing away from Murphy, his eyes suddenly glistening. Without another word he turned and stormed away, leaving Murphy to stare after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to have the next chapter up in the next 4-5 days and as always, any feedback is greatly appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

Murphy slowly made his way through the river, shivering as his bare legs were immersed in the ice cold water. He glanced around to make sure Bellamy wasn’t in sight before pulling off his t-shirt as well. Closing his eyes, he allowed the water to rush over his body, cleansing him of the grime from the past week. He sighed and tipped his head back, feeling the water rush over his greasy locks. Bellamy was further up bank, hidden by the trees as he set up a fire for the evening and Murphy relished the rare chance of being alone.

After Bellamy had stormed away, neither him nor Murphy had mentioned their run in with the grounders again. Murphy had found Bellamy a couple of minutes later, perched on a rock and when he had approached, Bellamy had simply jumped up and suggested they continue making their way up north. Bellamy seemed determined not to talk about it and Murphy reluctantly abided, but the tension was still palpable between them.

As he ran his fingers through his wet hair, Murphy reflected on Bellamy’s actions. While there’d never exactly been trust between the two of them, Bellamy’s reluctance to raise his gun worried him. While they were technically at peace with the grounders, even Murphy knew it was a shaky peace at best. And if Murphy could see it, surely Bellamy, the very man who had led the 100 in a war against the grounders, who had been distrusting from the very beginning, should see it too?

But it wasn’t trust Bellamy had for the grounders, Murphy reflected, as he deemed himself clean enough, scrambling onto the rocky riverbank to dry off. No. The grounders had shown time after time that they were untrustworthy, a vicious clan that could turn on you at a moments notice. And Murphy had heard the mutterings back at Arcadia, of the grounders abandonment outside of Mount Weather and the general mistrust that ran through the sky people. No, Bellamy’s sudden change was due to something different. It was almost as if he feared himself.

Murphy had been so caught up in his own musings that he failed to hear footsteps approaching, a sudden audible gasp making his head swivel in surprise. By this stage he had mostly dried off and dressed, only his t-shirt and boots still by his side. Bellamy had appeared behind him, perhaps to tell him to hurry up, but now he stared at Murphy’s bare back with something akin to horror on his face.

Murphy jumped up, face burning and made a grab for his t-shirt. With no mirrors in Arcadia, he’d been unable to see what state his back had been left in after his imprisonment in the grounder’s camp. If the scars on his chest were anything to go by then he was glad he’d been unable to see it.

T-shirt in hand, he went to pull it on but Bellamy shot out a hand to stop him, face unreadable. Slowly he reached out and Murphy froze, too surprised to do anything. Placing his hand on Murphy’s back, he began lightly tracing the outline of one of his scars, his fingers warm on Murphy’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, eyes boring into Murphy’s. “Back at Arcadia, I thought you were exaggerating, trying to gain pity to be pardoned. I never thought……” he trailed off, the guilt etched onto his face.

For once Murphy was speechless, unsure of what to do. He should of just shrugged Bellamy’s hand off but instead he closed his eyes for a brief moment, memories from the grounder’s camp resurfacing. The feel of a blade against his skin. The blinding pain. His blood decorating the dark floor. Murphy shivered and jerked his eyes open again.

“I told you grounders are vicious,” he said haltingly, meeting Bellamy’s gaze.

There was a moment of silence, before Bellamy removed his hand, gaze dropping to the ground. Murphy felt disappointed for a second, before chiding himself for being so ridiculous. Finally he pulled his t-shirt over his head.

Bellamy’s gaze was still on the ground but now he was frowning. Following his stare, Murphy glanced down to see what looked like a big red mush of fruit. 

“Did you do this?” Bellamy asked, and when Murphy shook his head, he bent down to inspect it. After a moments hesitation, Murphy did too.

They were the skins of some type of red berries, Murphy realised, as Bellamy scooped up a couple to look at. It appeared someone had squeezed out the inside of them and had then left this mess after them.

“They’re still fresh,” Bellamy commented, holding one of the skins up to his face.  
Murphy shrugged. “So? Someone doesn’t like the skins off of berries I guess. Who cares?”

Bellamy did apparently as he continued to stare intently at the skins. “I don’t think someone was eating them,” he said slowly, glancing up at Murphy and looking excited all of a sudden. “A lot of effort for a bit of pickiness if someone was eating them, don’t you think?”

Murphy was confused. “I guess they could be used as some kind of dye or something,” he commented, feeling baffled when Bellamy grinned. “Why do you look so happy?”

“Because,” he said, straightening up, “I think we’re close to Clarke.”

Murphy paused for a second and tried to understand Bellamy’s reasoning before he laughed. “Bellamy, literally any grounder could have decided to dye their hair out here. Are you going to see a shit somewhere next and say it’s hers?”

Bellamy appeared unperturbed by Murphy’s dismissal, if anything his grin grew wider. “That is a lot of berry skins,” he said, pointing at the mess on the ground. “Enough that someone was dyeing an entire head of hair. I’ve seen grounders with streaks of colour in their hair, but never all of it dyed. Besides, when was the last time we’ve passed a grounder camp? 

“No,” he continued, “this is the work of someone who’s trying to hide, someone on the run, someone like Clarke.”

Although incredibly far-fetched, Murphy had to give him credit for his observations. “Ok,” he said, “Just say your theory is correct. How does this help, besides telling us she’s not dead yet? She could of gone in any direction from here.”

Bellamy just smiled again, to Murphy he was starting to look slightly deranged. “We just passed bushes holding these berries a little while back. I severely doubt she decided to cross the river, giving the width and depth of it. Which leaves us with only this,” he pointed further down the riverbank, “direction to go in.”

When Murphy only shrugged in response, Bellamy seized his arm. “We’re close, Murphy,” he exclaimed.

“If you say so,” he responded, just managing to suppress a grin as Bellamy practically bounded off upstream. Although Murphy was sceptical of his theory, he was glad that at the very least, it had added a bit of a spring to Bellamy’s step, loath as he was to admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was a bit of a short chapter but I was hard pressed to meet my deadline due to exam results. Hopefully should have a longer chapter up in the next 3-4 days though :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise this is a bit of a short chapter and I'm late with an update so apologies for that but I've been bedridden all week with tonsillitis and doped up on a hell of a lot of drugs. So better you got a chapter late than the chapter I attempted to write a couple of days ago half delirious!

Murphy scowled as Bellamy pressed through the branches and one swung back to hit him in the face. Again. The rain pelted down on them, as it had all day and seemed to show no signs of ceasing. Murphy’s hair was plastered to his face, clothes sticking to him uncomfortably yet Bellamy showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Since their discovery of the berries the day before, Bellamy had been like a man possessed, allowing only a couple of hours rest before they were off again.

Murphy sighed, rubbing a hand over his weary face and quickening his stride in order to keep up with Bellamy. As much as he wanted to demand that they stop and rest, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Bellamy seemed so convinced that they were close to locating her. He’d wait a little bit longer maybe and then he might say something.

Weary and lost in thought, Murphy trudged along, taking little care until suddenly he stumbled, his left foot catching in a hidden root, sending him tumbling to the ground, a cry escaping his lips. He felt his head hit a sharp rock, his hands in his pockets, useless to protect him from the fall.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, clutching his head as he sat up slowly, swaying slightly. A searing hot pain shot across his forehead and when he drew away his hand it was covered in blood, the vivid red a stark contrast to his bleak surroundings.

“Murphy!” He glanced up, spotting two concerned Bellamys racing towards him. He blinked, confused and shook his head slightly but that only seemed to make things worse.

“Jesus, what happened?” the Bellamys exclaimed, glancing around their surroundings quickly, “Did someone attack you?”

“I fell,” Murphy responded, words slurring slightly. He made a move to stand up but both Bellamys put their hands on his shoulders, stopping him. He frowned down at the hands, “I don’t know which one of you is the real you.”

The frown deepened on both of Bellamys faces, worry flashing across their features. They slowly tried to push Murphy back to lie on the ground but he resisted. “I’m fine,” he tried, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to clear his vision.

Bellamy was having none of it. “Pretty sure seeing more than one of me means you’re not fine.” His hands pushed at Murphy’s chest again and this time he complied, grumbling slightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, “Ya you’re right, seeing one of you is already a nightmare, I don’t need another one of you in my life.” He heard Bellamy chuckle above him.

He lay like that for a minute or two, listening to Bellamy rustling around him, feeling the world sway, even with his eyes clenched shut. Eventually it stopped and he opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times and sighing in relief when a single Bellamy came into focus, hovering above him worriedly.

“Only one of your ugly faces now,” he confirmed and Bellamy smiled, although his eyes still remained creased with worry. He allowed Murphy to sit up again but stopped him when he attempted to stand and Murphy scowled.

“Let me look at your head,” he said softly, pushing back Murphy’s wet hair. The rain continued to pour down on them but Bellamy didn’t pay any heed to it. “That’s a lot of blood and it seems to still be bleeding.”

Murphy pulled away from Bellamy’s touch. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just wipe the blood off with my t-shirt or just leave the rain wash it off. It’ll stop bleeding in a minute,” he said dismissively, reaching for the end of his top to wipe his face.

Bellamy placed a hand on his, stopping him. “You can’t even see the wound,” he responded sceptically, “Let me clean it for you. Besides, it’s my fault this happened in the first place. We should have stopped the moment it started raining and we’ve been walking far too long with very little sleep anyway.”

Murphy hesitated for a second. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone offered to help him with anything. “Alright then,” he responded uncertainly, feeling awkward.

Bellamy smiled slightly, removed his hand and reached for a torn up piece of t-shirt that Murphy realised was Bellamy’s. He turned back to Murphy and began to gently clean the wound, his face inches from Murphy’s. He could probably count all the little freckles on his nose.

Murphy gulped and tore his gaze away, eyes landing on the items strewn around them, from the water to the makeshift bandage lying at his feet. He laughed. “I never took you for a nurse,” he commented, eyes fixing back on Bellamy’s face.

Bellamy smiled slightly but his eyes never strayed from the task at hand. “No, that’s always been Clarke’s expertise. You learn a lot from having to look after a wild, accident prone little sister though.”

Silence fell between them for a moment and Murphy focused on Bellamy’s hands, working quickly but surely. Bellamy smiled softly, “This reminds me of the time Octavia thought she might be able to fly.”

Murphy snorted, “I hope it wasn’t long ago that she thought this.”

Bellamy shook his head slightly and laughed. “It was when she was around 5 or 6. We’d leave her out from under the floorboards sometimes, when mom was on work duty and I was at dinner and we were certain no one would be inspecting the rooms.”

Having finished cleaning his wound, Bellamy reached for the makeshift bandage. Murphy remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I came back one of those days to find her sitting on the bottom bunk bed, blood caked across half her face. Obviously I panicked, thinking someone may have found her and hurt her and while she insisted no one had and that she’d just hurt herself, she refused to tell me how. I must have asked her a dozen times and not once did she waiver. Stubborn as hell she was.”

“Wonder where she got that from,” Murphy commented dryly and Bellamy laughed.

“Anyway, eventually I had to resort to threatening her. I told her I’d stop reading fairy tales to her every night if she didn’t tell me the truth. That-“

“Hold on,” Murphy interrupted startled, “You used to read fairy tales?”

“I used to read them to Octavia,” he replied defensively. “Besides, some of them were quite good. What’s funny about that?” he snapped, when Murphy began to laugh.

“I don’t know,” he replied, laughing more at Bellamy’s slightly embarrassed face, “I just would never have imagined you reading fairy tales to anyone. I bet you put on voices for all the characters as well, didn’t you?”

Bellamy’s slightly pink cheeks were all the response he needed. He threw back his head and laughed, the sound filling the relatively quiet forest.

“This is not the point of the story,” Bellamy said hurriedly but even he was grinning now.

Murphy nodded and took a couple of breaths to calm himself. “Go on then,” he replied, still smirking.

Bellamy started tying the bandage around Murphy’s head. “Well anyway, that threat quickly changed her mind. There were some tears but it wasn’t long until she admitted that she’d hurt her head from leaping off the top bunk, in order to see if she could fly like Tinkerbell.” He sighed fondly, “I should have known then how wild she was going to be.”

Murphy glanced at him as he pulled away, having finished tying the bandage. “I still think the best bit is you reading fairy tales,” he responded slyly, accepting Bellamy’s offered hand to pull him up.

Bellamy smiled and shook his head, “Of course you do.” He began to throw his belongings back into his bag.

“So,” Murphy began, watching him closely, “All of this talk of Octavia has reminded me. Why didn’t you ask her to come with you?”

Bellamy froze, the easy grin wiped from his face in a second and the light-hearted atmosphere from a moment ago vanished. Murphy immediately regretted saying anything.

“I thought I already explained my reasoning,” he said brusquely, placing his bag on his back and walking past Murphy.

“What, you mean the bullshit you gave me about not wanting to talk to other people? Even if that was true, surely you’d be comfortable around Octavia, she’s your _sister_ Bellamy,” he responded, hurrying to keep up with Bellamy’s quickening strides.

“We need to find some shelter,” Bellamy said flatly, ignoring him. “There’s no point searching in this rain and you need some rest.”

Murphy sighed, irritated, but he left it go for now. He’d sensed there was something off with the siblings for the past couple of weeks back at Arcadia and his suspicions had been aroused back at the gate with Raven. What could have possibly happened between the two that could make Bellamy this touchy over the subject?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm feeling a lot better I'm hoping to get another chapter out in 4-5 days :)


	5. Chapter 5

Murphy woke with a start, his heart pounding and for a second he was unsure as to why. He blinked, trying to gather his bearings, before he heard it. Bellamy yelling.

He sat up in a flash, blindly groping for his gun in the darkness as Bellamy’s shouts continued. Feeling the cool metal beneath his palm, he quickly raised it and swivelled his head around wildly, trying to locate the source of the threat.

“Bellamy!” he yelled, palms slick with sweat as he blinked rapidly, willing his eyes to adjust to their dim surroundings. All of a sudden, Bellamy’s shouts cut out and Murphy turned his head to the left, breath catching in his throat as he came face to face with Bellamy.

Bellamy’s eyes were blown wide with fear and he flinched when he saw Murphy’s gun raised in his direction. “What is it?” Murphy demanded frantically, eyes scanning behind Bellamy. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he realised they were alone.

Bellamy didn’t reply, instead he sagged against a rock and rested his head against his palms, leaving out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Slowly Murphy lowered his gun, the realisation that Bellamy’s yelling was not due to physical harm leaving him unsure as of what to do. He considered just lying back down and going back to sleep, his feeling of awkwardness increasing as Bellamy’s shoulders began to shake. There was a reason Murphy’s default reactions were anger and sarcasm. At least he knew how to handle those situations.

He sighed, spotting his backpack lying a couple of feet away. He reached for it, rummaging in it as slowly and loudly as possible before locating his flask of water. He uncapped it slowly, considering. Would it be weird to give him water? He thought for a second before shrugging. He’d never seen someone refuse water before. Besides, it was one way to replace the tears.

Hesitantly, he scooted closer to Bellamy. Thankfully he seemed to have mostly gained control again, taking slower breaths and staring straight ahead at nothing. Murphy could still see the tear tracks glittering on his cheeks.

“Here,” he said awkwardly, thrusting the flask in Bellamy’s face. Bellamy glanced at him in surprise before taking it. “Thanks,” he croaked before taking a long gulp.

They sat in silence for a bit, neither of them looking at each other. Murphy fidgeted, feeling awkward again and decided he’d done enough that he could go back to sleep without seeming like an asshole.

“Do you have nightmares?”

Murphy paused, just as he was about to get up and glanced over at Bellamy. He was still staring ahead and was now shredding some sort of leaf in his hands.

Murphy snorted. “We’re on the ground Bellamy. I doubt there’s anyone who doesn’t,” he paused for a second, thinking, “Except maybe Jaha. That guy is batshit crazy, I doubt anything haunts him.”

Bellamy nodded but his face remained impassive. “I never did,” he said eventually, “Even after all the shit we went through with the grounders, all the things we’d seen, I was always able to forget about it, move on. Until….” He sighed, rubbed a hand across his face, “Until Mount Weather.”

Murphy remained silent, feeling the need to say something but unsure as to what. It didn’t seem to matter though as Bellamy kept talking. 

“Every time I close my eyes I see it,” he whispered, hands trembling slightly, “I’m back there again, in the control room, watching the blisters form over their bodies, watching them fall to their knees, dying. There was no sound in the control room but I still imagine their screams of pain. And knowing that I was the cause of it…..” he trailed off, taking a couple of ragged breaths.

Murphy closed his eyes for a moment. He had, of course, heard what had happened back at Arcadia, what had been done to save those trapped in Mount Weather. But the whispers had always been about Clarke, Clarke pulling the lever, Clarke saving their people, Clarke leaving because of her guilt. Not once had Bellamy’s name been mentioned and up until now, Murphy hadn’t known the extent to which he was involved.

“You had no choice,” he tried, glancing over at Bellamy, “You did what you thought was right.”

“Was it though?” And now Bellamy was looking at him, his eyes desperately searching Murphy’s. “We should have looked for another option, struck some kind of deal……instead we irradiated over 350 people and most of them were innocent.”

Murphy opened his mouth to speak but Bellamy cut him off. “And before you try to convince me that no one was innocent, there were children in there Murphy.” Bellamy’s eyes began to well up again but he continued to stare at Murphy hard. “Children who had no idea what was happening, who wanted no part in this and nothing can justify us killing them.”

Silence fell between them again as Murphy thought over what he had said. He thought back to their run in with the grounders, of Bellamy’s reluctance to raise his gun. Suddenly, his actions were making a lot more sense. Bellamy, perhaps thinking that was the end of their conversation, turned away and began poking at the ashes of yesterday’s fire. Murphy watched him for a second, before speaking up.

“I won’t deny that what happened was horrible,” Murphy began and Bellamy paused, listening, “And I’m pretty sure I’d be fucked up too if it was me that did that, I mean even more fucked up than I already am obviously.” He smirked a little at Bellamy’s snort in response.

“But the way I see it,” he continued, staring at his hands, “Is the minute those in control at Mount Weather began killing your people, they condemned their people to death. _They_ put them a risk, knowing you and Clarke had infiltrated the mountain and even when you threatened to irradiate them, they continued to harvest bone marrow. That makes them responsible for their people’s deaths. Not you.”

Bellamy turned to look at him. He didn’t respond, just kept looking at him with that searching gaze, as if he was trying to understand something. Murphy gulped and turned away.

“I’d always thought that it was Clarke that pulled the lever,” he said quietly, “I didn’t even know you were in the control room.”

Bellamy laughed at that, a short, hollow sound. “Yeah that’s what most people think and Clarke leaving seemed to confirm that in their minds.” He stared ahead, a sad expression on his face. “But we were in it together,” he whispered so softly that Murphy had to strain to hear him, “I told her that and we pulled the lever together. And afterwards, I thought I might be able to get over it because there was someone else that understood, someone else that felt just as guilty as me.” He sighed heavily, bitterness in his tone, “And then she left.”

Now Murphy understood. He thought it was love that had sent Bellamy on this frenzied quest. The reality of it was a lot more pitiful.

As if reading his mind, Bellamy turned to him once more, “You understand now, why I have to find her?” There was a hint of desperation in his tone.

Murphy nodded. “And we’ll keep looking for her until we do. I promise.”

Bellamy gave him a watery smile in response. Murphy glanced down, noting for the first time how close they were, Bellamy’s hand inches from his. Before he could think about it too much, he reached over, giving Bellamy’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Bellamy glanced up at him in shock. Murphy quickly drew his hand back and fixed his gaze on a rock in the distance, his face heating up in embarrassment. Why the hell did he just do that?

Just as he was praying that spontaneous combustion could happen to him, he felt Bellamy’s cool palm rest on his own. Murphy froze as Bellamy squeezed his hand back before withdrawing slowly. He never looked at Murphy but Murphy could see a slight smile playing on his lips. They remained like that, side by side, even as the first birds began to chirp, signalling the dawn of another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit I've been suffering from a bit of writer's block as of late so I'm not going to give a deadline for the next chapter. However, I promise this fic won't be abandoned and I'll get up the next chapter as soon as I can :)
> 
> **5/12/16 Update:** Hey guys, just a brief little note to let you know that this fic hasn't been abandoned. My last update was right before I started college and I completely underestimated how hectic my life would become. That being said, I will have a month off over Christmas where I intend to finish off this fic. At the moment I estimate there will be about five more chapters with the final chapter hopefully up by mid January. Thanks so much to everyone who has read it so far and really sorry for the delay! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I'm finally back! I'm not sure if many people saw the note I added on the last chapter a couple of weeks ago but basically I've had a very hectic life the past couple of months with college but now that I have a month off, I aim to have this fic finished off within the month. So sorry for the long delay but whoever is still around reading this, it will be completed I promise! :)

The following morning brought with it blue skies and warmth, the storm from the previous day having vanished in its wake. Murphy eventually managed to convince Bellamy that his head was perfectly fine and no, he wasn’t going to keel over from a simple head wound. Bellamy fussed, Murphy threatened to give him a matching cut if he didn’t shut up, but neither of them addressed what had happened the previous night. They set off, Bellamy with his map in hand, Murphy grumbling over the ridiculously long strides Bellamy took, and everything appeared normal, or what Murphy took as normal these days. 

Yet, saying everything was normal was wrong too because something, however slight, had shifted between them. Murphy could see it reflected in Bellamy’s actions, the gentle smiles, the helping hand and most noticeably, Bellamy’s willingness to share information he had previously remained guarded about.

“Octavia’s leaving,” Bellamy told him one day, about a week after their conversation in the cave. They had been forced to leave the shelter of the woods, now following a dusty track, the sun beating down on their exposed heads.

“You wanted to know why I didn’t bring her with me,” he elaborated as Murphy glanced at him, confused.

“Leaving? For where?” he asked, surprised that Bellamy was voluntarily giving this information.

Bellamy sighed, squinting against the harsh sunshine. Murphy could feel the cold sweat trickling down his own back and desperately wished they were back under the shade of the forest.

“Lincoln knows of a clan near the Eastern Sea,” he said eventually, “The two of them plan to go there soon. With the kill order on Lincoln it’s not safe for him here and well, I guess Octavia’s never really felt comfortable in Arcadia. She’s practically a grounder these days.” He finished sadly.

Murphy remained silent, unsure of what to say. He felt a sudden surge of anger towards Octavia and her selfishness. 

“How do you think they’d react if I tagged along with them?” he responded instead in a light-hearted tone, swallowing his anger.

Bellamy gave him a curious look, clearly not expecting that reply. He was quiet for a second before he answered with a look of amusement, “I think you’d irritate them so much that you’d be dead before nightfall.”

Murphy barked out a laugh and Bellamy smiled slightly. A comfortable silence spread out between them before Bellamy spoke again, “Why did you leave with Jaha to go looking for the city of light?”

The suddenness of the question caught him off guard and Murphy froze. “You don’t strike me as someone who’d believe in that sort of thing,” Bellamy continued, watching him closely.

And this. This was what irritated him about Bellamy. He now seemed to believe that they’d reached a new level in their….acquaintance. Because friends, they were not, Murphy didn’t do friends, not since Mbege anyway. But Bellamy seemed to think that just because he’d shared some of his thoughts, Murphy should be ready to spill every goddamn thought and feeling of his own.

“I was bored,” he snapped back, refusing to elaborate. Bellamy frowned in annoyance but didn’t push the issue.

They continued on in silence, the heat serving to fuel Murphy’s already foul mood. He’d also begun to feel slightly lightheaded and chugging half his water bottle didn’t seem to do anything to help. When he caught sight of the forest, the towering trees providing a welcoming canopy against the glaring heat, he sighed in relief and quickened his pace, only realising a moment later that Bellamy had come to a halt.

“What are you doing?” he asked, exasperated. They had come to a fork in the path and Bellamy was currently looking down the one on the right, a slight frown on his face. Bar a quaint wooden building, the path was barren, and most importantly, winding away from the shelter of the forest. 

Bellamy glanced back at him, looking thoughtful. “I’ve passed buildings like these before,” he murmured, “The grounders call them trading posts.”

Murphy raised his eyebrows, “I would have thought they were too barbaric for something as civil as trading,” he deadpanned. When Bellamy didn’t respond, Murphy groaned. “If you really feel the need to enlighten me on grounder culture can you at least do it under the shelter of the _trees?_ ”

Bellamy rolled his eyes but otherwise appeared unperturbed by his irritation. “I wasn’t looking to give you a lesson on grounder culture.” He paused for a second and Murphy noticed the beginnings of a smile etch across his face. “If I’m correct about the berries and we’re following the right trail, then Clarke may have visited this trading post.”

Murphy froze as the implications of what Bellamy was saying hit him. “Oh no,” he snapped, only growing more irritated when Bellamy grinned wider, “We’re not going in to ask about her.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Murphy repeated, incredulous. “Because nothing good ever comes out of interacting with the grounders Bellamy! What, you think if you go in there that whoever is in there will just be willing to help you? Have you forgotten that the last time you went to the grounders for help, they abandoned you at Mount Weather?”

Bellamy flinched slightly at the mention of Mount Weather and Murphy took a deep breath to calm himself, feeling slightly abashed at that low blow. For a moment, Bellamy’s expression hardened and he looked ready to snap back a reply but instead he sighed, rubbing a palm across his face and looking suddenly quite weary.

“Fine,” Bellamy replied softly, “If you don’t want to go in there, then that’s fine. But we’ve been following this trail for over a week now with no new evidence and I’m not going to pass up on the opportunity to find out more. You can wait here and if I’m more than a couple of minutes then you can presume that your pessimistic view is right and that I’m dead.”

He turned to go but Murphy didn’t miss his tightened grip on his gun, betraying his otherwise nonchalant attitude. For a moment, he let Bellamy go, his annoyance keeping him rooted to the spot. But as he watched Bellamy’s retreating back, his anger began to deflate and he was forcefully reminded of Bellamy’s nightmare in the cave, of the look of pure desperation on his face as he asked Murphy if he understood why he needed to find Clarke.

“Wait!” Murphy called out and Bellamy turned, watching as Murphy quickened his pace to reach him. “Fine, I’ll go in with you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bellamy grin. “Anything to get out of the sun,” he added hastily and Bellamy just chuckled in response.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise this is a day later than what I told -Fanfic_Lover- and I really have no excuse except for the fact that I am a terrible procrastinator. Also thank you everyone for the supportive comments and kudos, really appreciate them! :)

They covered the last bit of ground to the trading post together, the sounds of their footfalls filling the otherwise slightly eerie silence. Furs skinned from various animals hung on either side of the entrance of the door, Murphy’s shoulder brushing against them as they passed. A sign in trigedasleng was pinned to the door, tilting to the right as one of the rusty nails was coming loose. Bellamy paused for a second with his hand pressed against the door before he pushed it forward, both of them grimacing slightly as it creaked loudly. Murphy was suddenly reminded of the last time he entered grounder civilisation and the disastrous consequences that had. He shivered slightly.

The interior of the trading post was dimly lit, a sharp contrast to the blinding light outside and for a moment Murphy could see nothing, the darkness engulfing them both.

“Hello?” Bellamy called out as Murphy blinked rapidly, eyes quickly adjusting to the soft light emitted from the dozen or so candles scattered around the room. He swivelled his head around quickly, taking in the odd assortment of items, ropes, cloths, rugged pieces of metal, Murphy even caught sight of what looked like a wooden cabinet at the rear end of the room.

“Looks like no one’s here,” he commented, even as Bellamy took no heed and wandered further into the room, shouting out hello again. Murphy sighed, eyes falling to the table next to him and began to fiddle with a delicate wooden box that had an infinity symbol on it.

He could still hear Bellamy shouting on the other side of the room. He rolled his eyes and was about to straighten up and tell Bellamy to give up when he felt something cool push up against his neck and he froze instantly.

“Don’t even think about it,” a cool voice whispered in his ear and he quickly retracted the hand that was edging towards the gun at his side. In one quick motion, she grabbed the top of his hair and pulled, forcing him to stand upright, the other hand still pushing the blade of a knife to his neck.

“Over here,” the grounder called out and Murphy watched as Bellamy turned, eyes widening as he spotted them. Even as his heart thudded loudly in his ears, Murphy felt a split second of satisfaction as Bellamy didn’t hesitate to pull out his gun, training it on the grounder’s face with a grim look of determination.

“Is this how you greet every customer you have?” Murphy deadpanned, wincing slightly as the grounder snarled and pressed down on his throat, hard enough to graze the skin and draw blood. “It would certainly explain how barren this place is.”

“Murphy,” Bellamy warned as he inched closer, eyes fixed on the knife at Murphy’s throat.

“Don’t take another step,” the grounder snapped and Bellamy halted instantly. Murphy could feel her warm breath tickle the back of his neck and he shuddered.

“We didn’t come here to do you any harm.” Bellamy had raised one arm in a placating manner. “We just wanted to ask you some questions.”

“You mean no harm yet you carry _those?_ ” The disdain was dripping from her voice and suddenly her actions made a little more sense. He had forgotten how fearful grounders were of guns, given they’d never even seen one up until three months ago. That didn’t mean Murphy would be forgiving her for cutting his neck anytime soon though.

Bellamy too seemed to understand. “We only have these for protection,” he explained and lowered his gun so it was now pointing at the ground, making Murphy feel even more uneasy.

“Not liking this plan Bellamy,” Murphy muttered and when Bellamy glared at him he added, “What? It’s my neck on the line!”

Bellamy ignored him and dropped the gun, letting it clatter noisily to the ground. There was a moment of tense silence before the grounder let him go, shoving him in Bellamy’s direction. He stumbled slightly and Bellamy placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. He left out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

“What do you want then?” The grounder had dropped her arm to the side but was still gripping the knife tightly, looking uneasy. Her blonde hair was swept to one side, accentuating the sharp features of her face, giving her quite a fierce look.

“We’re looking for someone,” Bellamy began carefully, “She’s a friend of ours.” Murphy just managed to hold back a snort at that.

“She’s got blonde-or well maybe red hair now, blue eyes, about the same height as you-”

“Many people pass through here on their travels,” she interrupted dismissively, “I don’t usually remember faces.”

Murphy frowned. He’d almost believe her if it wasn’t for the fact that she’d stiffened momentarily at the mention of red hair. He opened his mouth to accuse her of lying but paused when he saw a glint of silver on the hand that wasn’t holding the knife. It was one of their wristbands.

“Where did you get that?” he asked instead, pointing at the wristband. Bellamy glanced to where he was pointing, eyes widening as he did so.

When she didn’t reply, Bellamy took a couple of steps forward, the beginnings of desperation appearing on his face. “Please, I know you know something!”

The grounder took a step back, eyeing him warily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said breezily.

Bellamy made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Behind them, the door creaked loudly and all three of them spun around to see two more grounders enter the trading post.

“Great, more grounders. Just what we need,” Murphy muttered.

The grounder grabbed Bellamy by the wrist, looking suddenly panicked. “Go to the back of the store. Pretend to be looking at something,” she hissed. She then spoke to them in trigedasleng at normal volume, gesturing towards the back of the room.

The two of them stared at her, perplexed. She shot them one last warning look before turning to converse with the two in trigedasleng. The two grounders that had entered the building appeared to be men and one of them turned a sharp gaze on Bellamy and Murphy. Bellamy grabbed Murphy’s arm and dragged him towards the back.

“We need to leave” Murphy hissed. Bellamy had grabbed the nearest item to him and was studying it intently. It would almost be convincing if it wasn’t a wooden spoon he was holding.

“No,” Bellamy muttered, “She knows something about Clarke.”  
“I don’t care!” Murphy snapped, voice rising slightly above a whisper in his annoyance. Bellamy elbowed him in warning. “We have no idea what they’re saying to each other, they could be plotting our deaths for all we know. It’s not like she’s exactly trustworthy, she had a knife to my neck five minutes ago!”

“You’re drawing attention to us,” Bellamy whispered and Murphy glanced back across the room, making eye contact with the grounder that was staring earlier. He quickly averted his gaze to the other two just in time to see the male grounder showing some type of parchment to the female.

Murphy fixed his gaze on the table in front of him again. Bellamy inched closer until they were almost shoulder to shoulder. “I don’t trust her either,” he breathed. “But they’re ice nation. You can tell by the markings on their face. She wouldn’t be working with them.”

Murphy chanced another glance up only to see the two grounders leaving. He left out a sigh of relief and felt Bellamy relax beside him.

The woman, on the other hand, seemed anything but relaxed. She stood watching the door for a minute or two, shoulders tense, before hurrying over to them.

“Your friend that you’re looking for,” she began reluctantly, “She is the girl that killed the mountain men?”

Bellamy stiffened. “Yes,” he replied breathlessly, “You know where she is?”

The woman sighed. “She was here about two days ago and she comes at least once a week. I’m not sure where she goes or stays but it can’t be too far from here.”

“Why are you telling us this now?” Murphy asked suspiciously. 

The woman fixed her gaze on him. “The two men that just left were ice nation and they came asking about her too. In our culture, we believe when you kill someone, you gain their power and the power Clarke has after killing the mountain men is huge. The ice queen wants this power.”

Murphy glanced at Bellamy, who looked slightly sickened. “And she’d get that power by-”

“By killing her,” the woman confirmed. “That’s why you need to find her first.”

**Author's Note:**

> I intend for this to be a multi chaptered fic but not sure how many chapters yet. Any feedback is greatly appreciated :)


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